


Angels Watch Me

by MockingBlue (RoyalSeal)



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-14
Updated: 2015-01-14
Packaged: 2018-03-07 12:13:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3173452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoyalSeal/pseuds/MockingBlue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nine months is a long time to wait for someone to wake up. Iris centric.</p><p>As requested on Tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Angels Watch Me

**Author's Note:**

> I have absolutely no medical training. I did some research but there may still be inaccuracies. Please don't hate me.

_ January 3rd, 2014, 10:33 AM _

_ 24 hours, 13 minutes since Particle Accelerator explosion. _

“Struck by lightning.” 

She whispers it hoarsely, trying out the words on her tongue. She can still taste the bile in her throat from a few hours ago, when the stress of the last few hours made her stomach forcibly reject all its contents. Her eyes sting from the lack of sleep, the sensation of dried up tears, and crusted mascara that still leaves smudges beneath her eyelashes. 

Distantly, through too many walls, she hears the beeping of the cardiac monitor that is connected to Barry. Iris has no medical training, but she knows enough to understand that the noise registering Barry’s heart rate is far too slow. 

“Struck by lightning.” She tries it again, a little more urgently this time. Barry would have liked that. He would have said it was cool, that it was dramatic, and that if he  _ had _ to land in the ICU of Central City Dignity Health, heart stopping so often that his  _ family _ isn’t even allowed in the room, a lightning strike might be worth it. 

The sound of the cardiac monitor descending to a single, drawn out note as it registers a flat line is becoming familiar. 

As she hears the Code Blue go out over the hospital intercom, Iris closes her eyes tiredly, the words of Barry’s lead physician ringing through her head.

“We need you to prepare yourselves for the worst.”

\-----

_ January 4th, 6:45 AM _

She can feel the exhaustion in her joints, weighing her down in her seat. Joe is in the cafeteria, trying to get a little caffeine so he can stay awake for a few more hours. Iris knows he won’t admit it, but Joe is scared of going to sleep. He’s afraid of not being there if Barry has to slip away. 

But Joe has always needed to be strong for her. Even when she tells him not to be. “Go home.” She had said, trying to give him a smile that feels so heavy on her cheeks. “You’ve been up for 48 hours. You need to sleep. I’ll be here.”

All he says is, “No. No, I’m staying.” As though it’s unthinkable for him to do anything else. 

After eight hours in a hospital waiting room, shifting and sliding about to try and find an ounce of comfort on the leather upholstered couch with its wooden arm rests, Iris is beginning to develop blisters on her elbows and rump. 

When Barry wakes up, he’d better appreciate this. He’d better give her his biggest smile, take her hand, maybe kiss the back of her fingers, and assure her that he will never do anything like this again. 

She hears the screeching note of the flat line and grits her teeth, the shrill noise mingling with the agonizing exhausted fog in her mind, culminating into a pulsing headache. For the fourth time that day, and the ninth time since Barry was rushed here, the hospital intercom calls out a Code Blue. 

She leans her head against the cold, bumpy wall, which she knows is probably crawling with germs, but she doesn’t care. Her neck is too tired to keep supporting her head, and she hasn’t washed her hair in over two days now, so what’s a few more germs?

As all available doctors and nurses go rushing by her back into Barry’s room, Iris takes out her phone and pulls up Facebook.

_ He can’t wake up if his heart keeps stopping. :/ _

She erases the face. Considers erasing the whole post. Thinks “Fuck it”, and posts it anyway, then drifts into that listless, bewildering place between being awake and being asleep, where there are no thoughts but all the sounds, smells, and feelings about are clearer than ever.

\------

_ January 5th, 10:39 PM _

The cardiac monitor won’t leave her alone, not even when she snatched a few minutes of REM sleep. She dreams that she is going to a police ball with Barry, and she comes downstairs in her dress, gives him a twirl, and asks him prettily how she looks. When he opens his mouth, all the sound that comes out is the beeping of the cardiac monitor. 

A nurse gives her a blanket and the tiniest can of 7 Up Iris has ever seen. She frowns at it (she dislikes soda), but thanks the nurse and sets it aside.

Around 11 PM, bored out of her mind and desperate for  _ anything _ to do, she pops open the lid and downs it all in six gulps. 

The nurse sees that her finish it, and brings over two more, and Iris blearily thanks her, not intending to do anything with these latest offerings, and a little confused as to why they are being given. Does she look so monstrous in her sleep deprived, unwashed state that the nurse hopes to appease her with a sacrifice, before she carries off two first born children? The thought makes her giggle, a sick, hollow sound that makes her sound drunk. 

She finishes off both 7 Ups in minutes, and it’s then that she remembers all she’s had to eat in the past 36 hours is a cheese sandwich and some coffee.

Too tired to bother to eat now, she rolls over on the tiny leather couch that has molded itself to her shape, and throws the blanket over her body, trying to catch a few minutes of sleep. 

Idly, as she counts how many times the cardiac monitor forced another Code Blue today (three times, at least he’s getting better at not dying), she wonders how many 7 Up cans will be waiting for her in the morning.

As it turns out, only 1. Joe comes to her at 2 AM and tells her she needs to go home and get some proper sleep. She thinks she should protest (it would be the appropriate, noble response), but she becomes so excited at the idea of sleeping on a mattress, with sheets and a pillow and a room that doesn’t smell of air conditioners and other people that she can actually open her eyelids past half way. A little unsure of why, she seeks out the nurse who brought her the soda, and thanks her. The nurse presses yet another can into her hands and, with the softest of smiles, gives her arm a little squeeze.

“Stay strong, honey.” She says. 

One of the police detectives, a pretty boy that she dimly recognizes as the one who arrested the man who stole her laptop (how could that have only been three days ago? It seemed like months), drives her home. He greets her with, “Hey Iris”, and doesn’t speak for the rest of the drive. She’s grateful for that, as she grips her soda can a little closer and feels foolish for it, but is too tired to care.

It’s only when Pretty Boy is helping her to her door that she realizes why the nurse told her to stay strong, and gave her the only thing she could give.

The nurses don’t think Barry is going to survive either. 

Pretty Boy practically has to carry her to her bedroom. She’s dimly aware of tumbling into bed in all of her clothes; her body almost screams in relief when the mattress sinks down beneath her in a cool, comforting embrace. 

The last thing she’s aware of as she nods off is the sensation of someone hesitantly but gently tucking her in. 

\------

_ January 13th, 9:46 AM _

She straightens her hair and puts on makeup. A little powder, some foundation, a dab of concealer underneath her eyes to hide the dark circles, a touch of lipstick, and mascara. It’s odd to see herself look so alive. She looks deceptively beautiful, actually. The sun is streaming in bright and yellow through the window behind her, bathing the background of her reflection in light. The sounds of a piano song waft gently through the house.

Iris feels eerily calm. 

Barry’s being moved. 

Central City Dignity Health, in desperation, called in the only man they could think of who might be able to help Barry. The same man that had been inadvertently responsible for putting him there, the ex-director of S.T.A.R Labs, Dr. Harrison Wells. 

The Particle Accelerator accident may have damaged Dr. Wells’ legs and spine, but certainly had not diminished his mind, and it was only a day before he had figured out the problem. Apparently, all those times when Barry’s cardiac monitor had announced a flat line, Barry’s heart hasn’t been stopping. 

It’s been beating too fast to register. 

Iris had seen her father cry three times in her life. The first was the night her mother left. The second was when Grandma Esther had passed away. The third was when Dr. Wells told Joe that Barry hadn’t been repeatedly dying. 

Iris wants to feel something too, so badly. Relief? Joy? Excitement? Shouldn’t they all be swirling around in her stomach like butterflies on a first date? Shouldn’t she be crying, or laughing, or down on her knees thanking God that Barry might actually be alright?

But it’s been nearly two weeks, and the only time she’s seen Barry move was when his body convulsed with the electrical charge of a defibrillator. 

It’s hard to feel hopeful when the best news you’ve heard in ages is that your best friend isn’t dying a few times a day.

\-----

_ January 27th, 9:05 AM _

It’s been 25 days. Classes started that Monday, and the first day of school meant Iris had to meet with each teacher and explain to them that a family member was in a coma, and she was on standby for news, so please could they not mark her absent for times when she was called away? All five teachers said, “Yes, oh of course, I completely understand.”

Every time someone says that to her, she fights the urge to roll her eyes. 

Human beings have an innate need to empathize, and Iris wants to let them do it, but not if they have to lie about it. The rational side of her mind knows this to be true, and tells her she’s petty, but the bitter feelings don’t go away. 

She hasn’t gone to see Barry in about a week. Joe keeps asking her if she wants to come with him, always adding, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

She says she’s busy. She’s tired. Work just started and she needs some down time or else she’ll get sick. One of her teachers has assigned some pre-reading and she needs to get it done. 

Her excuses sound like the truth to her, but a nagging voice in the back of her head tells her she’s just tired of seeing Barry the same way day after day and not being able to do a damn thing to stop it. 

\-----

_ January 28th, 3:49 AM _

She misses his smile. It’s a shame it took her almost an entire bottle of vodka to understand that. 

\----

_ January 30th, 10:34 AM _

“Your heart rate is at 90 beats per minute.” Her voice sounds strange and thin in the wide expanse of the S.T.A.R Labs main building, and she feels self-conscious beneath the inquisitive eyes of the engineering tech. Swallowing the shaking in her voice, she presses on, “For real though Barry, that’s...that’s too fast. Am I just taking your breath away or something?”

That’s not funny, and she hears a spluttering noise of disapproval (she assumes) from the engineering tech. She considers shutting up and sitting there in her folding chair for another hour in silence, but the idea of doing nothing for so long, of trying to be a good human and holding Barry’s hand while hating every second of it absolutely horrifies her. 

She tries taking it slower. “I’m trying, Barry.” It feels strange to call the motionless, immovable figure on the bed by her best friend’s name. ‘Barry’ is the word for excitement, for happiness, for laughter, for brownies and smiles, too much coffee and not enough beer. There is none of that in the person she is directing her words at. 

She clears her throat and shifts in position, and winces as the folding chair lets out an angry squeak. 

“I joined a support forum? For people who have loved ones in comas. It’s called ‘Angels Watch Me Through the Night’, but we call it AWMTN. Most of the people on there say their loved one’s been out for maybe two days. There is...there’s this one guy whose son has been under for about three  _ months _ , so...in terms of waiting, I’m holding second place. Whoo, go team! This is the worst achievement I’ve ever had. Anyway, they all say it’s best if I...if I  _ talk _ to you. You’re most likely able to hear me, anyway, that’s what all the science says. Maybe I should just study up on some science behind comas for you. Would that wake you up? Because it would bore me to death. I’m rambling, I know, I’m sorry, I just...”

She lets a pause fill the space between them, unsure of why it seemed so easy for her to talk until she had run out of words. She couldn’t remember the last time that had happened. 

_ It’s probably because Barry always interrupted before you finished. _

She rubs her forehead, feeling a headache coming on.

“Dammit Bear just...don’t...don’t let me win first place on that forum. Please don’t.”

\-----

_ February 3rd, 3:55 PM _

“Yayyyyy happy one month anniversary of being in a coma day! I hope that wherever you are, you can hear the biting sarcasm in my voice and decide that your comfy sleepy time is so not worth the ass kicking I will give you when you wake up. Nothing? No response? Fine. Mmmm, what can I talk to you about? Let’s see...oh, uh, Dad’s getting a new partner. It’s Detective Pr...I mean Detective Eddie Thawne, the one that got my laptop back? He’s nice, Barry, and very funny. Not as funny as you, but who is? Other than me, I mean.”

\-----

_ February 6th, 4:06 PM _

“Cisco and Dr. Snow have introduced themselves to you, right? Cisco told me he did, though I don’t know if Dr. Snow would. She seems kind of angry. I think she lost someone. Cisco is nice. I think he thinks that I’m cute. He’s making me coffee right now. I’m up to three cups of caffeine a day, and it’s all your fault. You’re ruining my health, Barry. What do you have to say for yourself? Nothing? Again?”

\-----

_ February 19th, 4:03 PM _

“Sorry I haven’t been here for a while. I caught a really  _ lovely _ flu. I felt well enough to do things, but Dr. Wells said I shouldn’t visit you while I was sick, just in case your immune system is weakened.” As if on cue, she coughs, and covers her mouth hurriedly. “Oh, shit, don’t tell anyone about that. They’ll kick me out.” She snickers, then her mirth fades away as the realization strikes her.

_ Why am I worried? Who’re you going to tell? _

\------

_ February 23rd, 3:58 PM _

“I went out with the girls last night! They suggested coming to my house, but I said that I really needed to get out, so we went to an Irish pub. I  _ may _ have had a few too many drinks, but it turned out for the best, because a creepy guy started hitting on Lydia, so I threw up on him. You would’ve gotten a kick out of that.”

\----

_ February 28th, 6:13 AM _

“I am quitting caffeine. At least until you’re up. I have been up for 36 hours and I think I can smell colors. Mornings are actually really ugly when all you want to do is sleep but can’t because you had four cups of coffee after 6 PM the night before. Admittedly, this is my fault, but still. Mornings. Gross. I’m lucky Dr. Snow got here early, or else I’d just be sitting out there on the doorstep waiting for someone to unlock those stupid gates that say this place is a hazard site. Actually...I’m even not sure Dr. Snow ever left last night. Hm. Did you know Cisco has his own cappuccino machine here? He’s actually not bad at them.”

\----

_ March 2nd, 4:03 PM _

“Hey Cisco.”

“Oh heyyyyy Iris! Early dinner? Smells awesome.”

“It’s Chipotle, and I got you some too. Pinto beans, steak, and guacamole okay?”

“It’s like we’re soulmates.”

“Burrito soulmates sounds like a good thing to be. How’s he doing today?”

“Told you I’d call if there was any change.”

“Yeah, you did, I’m sorry. It’s just...”

“Two months tomorrow. I remember. Happy anniversary. Burrito cheers?”

It gets a grin out of her, and they touch burritos in a mock toast. The scent of Chipotle hangs heavy in the air for hours afterwards.

\------

_ March 5th, 6:37 PM _

“The man on the AWMTN, the one who had us beat, the one whose son had been in a coma for two months longer than you? Yeah, um...he...he posted today. About an hour ago. We’re winning now, Barry. His son died.”

\-------

_ March 29th, 4:03 PM _

“Hey Caitlin.”

“Hey Iris. What’s this?”

“It’s a gluten free cranberry scone. I thought you might like it. You said you were gluten intolerant so I...”

“I don’t like cranberries.”

“Oh, okay. That’s totally fine. I’ll just um...”

“But...it was really sweet of you to bring it by. So...thank you.”

“Anytime. It’s the least I can do. Let me know if there is something you do like.”

“I’ll try.”

“How’s he doing?”

“Still no change, Iris. I’m sorry.”

Iris breathes a hefty sigh and shrugs. “It’s okay. I’m not really surprised anymore.”

\-----

_ April 16th, 4:28 PM _

“Hey Barry, sorry I’m late. Eddie came into Jitters’ just before my shift ended. We talked for a while. He asked about you. I guess he wants to visit with Joe, but it almost seemed like he was...asking my permission or something. I don’t know, it was weird. But sweet, I guess. He’s a nice guy. And cute, I think. He’s got really nice muscles. Arm muscles, I mean. I haven’t exactly seen his abs. Wow, sorry, um, anyway. A joke thread got started on AWMTN. I’m going to read you some of my favorites.”

\------

_ May 3rd, 4:13 PM _

“You missed another comic book film. The second Captain America. Eddie and I were talking about it yesterday, because I guess he hadn’t seen it either. I told him I was going to see it with Amy and asked if he wanted to come. He sat next to me in the theater and whispered trivia to me during the movie, and he knows a  _ lot _ . I can’t spoil the movie for you because you will probably kill me when you wake up, but there’s a lot of surprises that you’ll love, since you read the comic books. You should talk about it with Eddie, too, he  _ really _ loved it.”

\----

_ May 4th, 4:11 PM _

“Heyyy! May the Forth be with you, you big nerd!  And a late happy four months in a coma anniversary. We’re all eating pizza without you.  _ Without _ you, Barry, big, lovely, gooey, cheesy pieces of pizza from Uncle Sal’s and you are  _ missing out _ . Even Dr. Wells is eating pizza, aren’t you, Doctor?

“What’s that, Miss West?”

“Uh, never mind. Um. Seriously though Barry. Do I have to go home and marathon Star Wars without you? This is going to be so dumb. Dad’s going to fall asleep in the middle of it, Amy’s only interested because she thinks Natalie Portman is hot, and I’d invite Eddie, but he’s been acting weird. I think I may be annoying him. Come on Barry, you’re supposed to be annoying me with nerdy trivia. I’m waiting, I’m listening. I’m leaving myself wide open. Hit me with your trivia. You’re missing your chance. Stop it. Stop missing this chance, Bear...oh, forget it.”

\-------

_ June 28th, 12:37 PM _

“They’ve asked me to be an admin on AWMTN. I think it might have something to do that with the fact that you’ve literally been here for nearly six months. The person with the next longest record right now is barely at four weeks. This is a really dumb contest to be winning. You should focus your energy on something else, like maybe something sciency." 

\------

_ July 3rd, 8:39 PM _

“I wasn’t going to come, but...happy six months in a coma day. You should be happy that you’re not awake right now, because I look like that girl from the Ring, if she wore a hoodie, yoga pants, and Uggs.”

Uggs. How appropriate for her current mood. Cisco loans Iris one of the Skyrim games, and she plays it on Barry’s game console, the one she had to move back into her house to make sure no one stole it from his six months vacant apartment, until 2 in the morning. She’s on her second packet of tissues and her third bag of Famous Amos cookies when she realizes she doesn’t remember the sound of Barry’s laugh. 

She sleeps on the floor in Joe’s bedroom for the first time in eighteen years. 

\-----

_ July 21st, 1:35 PM _

Caitlin’s alarmed by the sound of the TARDIS materializing in her lab, but relaxes quickly when it turns out to only be Cisco’s phone, which he answers hurriedly.

“Iris? Hey girl, what’s up?” (Caitlin glowers as her technical counterpart tries to be cool). 

“Hey Cisco, can you uh...can I talk to Barry? On the phone?”

Cisco frowns, but agrees, puts the phone on speaker, and holds it close to Barry’s ear. “Okay, you can talk, Iris.”

“Hey Barry...um. I wanted to let you know. Eddie just asked me out. For coffee. Annndd, I’m going. I mean, I said yes. So uh, yeah. Love you, Bear. Thanks Cisco. See you later.”

When Caitlin goes back over the data they’ve collected from that day, she notices the tiniest spike in brain activity, occurring at around 1:36 PM. 

\-----

_ August 2nd, 4:38 PM _

“So whatever happened to that Felicity girl? Cisco told me she was hot. She visited you a lot. Any particular reason why you never told me about her?”

_ 5:32 PM _

“Eddie’s a really great boyfriend. We can’t go public right now because I have no idea what Dad will say but...I really like him. He’s really nice to me. He’s come by and visited you a few times, actually, just when Dad’s around. It’s got to be weird for him, but he cares a lot.”

_ 9:32 PM _

“S.T.A.R Labs has great TVs. You should see this HD, okay, Oliver Queen has probably never looked so hot in his  _ life _ . Such a great suit. You should wear suits like that, Barry.”

_ 11:36 PM _

“If I call up this Felicity girl right now, like, if I make Cisco get me her number and I call her to come down here right now, and kiss you on the lips, will you wake up?”

_ 11:57 PM _

“If  _ I _ kiss you on the lips, will you wake up?”

\-------

_ August 3rd, 2:36 PM _

Iris sits down to make an excited post in the “Good News!” thread on Angels Watch Me Through the Night. Her hands are shaking so much she can barely type, and it takes her ten minutes to craft a simple thread.

_ It’s been eight months, but there’s a spike in Bear’s brain activity. Not a lot, nothing major, but it’s significant compared to the last few months. I’m trying not to get my hopes up, but it’s the best news I’ve had about him in a long while, and I’m very excited. Please keep praying for us. _

Eddie buys her dinner in celebration, and she keeps her phone with her wherever she goes, hoping that S.T.A.R Labs calls with more news. 

As night falls, she gets ready for bed, phone tucked safely beneath her pillow, shoes nearby so she can rush down if she needs to.

And she waits.

\------

_ August 7th, 4:07 PM _

She sits outside of S.T.A.R Labs on a short stone wall, staring down at her phone in her lap. She had just tried to call Barry’s number, purely out of curiosity, and had discovered that the number had been disconnected. 

And she felt nothing. 

Maybe she should have. Maybe she should be crying because she couldn’t call Barry’s voice mail and just hear his voice saying, “Hi, this is Barry Allen. If you’re trying to leave me a lot of money, call me a second time, but if you’re just trying to leave a message, do it after the tone.” Maybe she should be angry that what she now imagined Barry’s voice to be, she knew instinctively had been distorted by her mind. 

But it’s been eight months. 

Surprisingly, strangely, beyond all expectation...Iris is doing okay. 

\------

_ August 16th, 3:58 PM _

“I hope you appreciate that I went and saw a horror film just so I could tell you about it. I was screaming and cowering the whole way through. Eddie didn’t seem to mind, because, I mean, I’m super cute and clingy when I’m scared, but I hope you appreciate how much I love you. A lot. I mean...I mean that I love you so much. Forget the horror film. I just need to tell you how much you mean to me, and how much I miss you. I love you.”

\------

_ August 22nd, 4:15 PM _

She crawls into the bed and moves him just enough so that she can lie on her side next to him. He feels heavier than she remembers, and definitely firmer. 

“The Barry Allen fitness plan?” She muses, running her fingers through his soft, downy hair. “For only the price of a lightning strike and missing out on all the amazing things your family and friends are doing, you  _ too _ could be as muscled as this kid!” 

She nestles her head next to his and wraps an arm around him. “You smell very nice.” She comments. “I guess I didn’t realize until now that I really missed the way you smell. Is Cisco still using your Old Spice body wash? Ew, wait, no, that brings up mental images that I don’t want. I’ll just pretend this is all natural.” She snickers into his shoulder and heaves a deep sigh. 

“Be nice if you woke up. Your birthday’s in two weeks, remember. You’re turning 25 and that’s a big number. And today, well...”

She hasn’t felt tears well up in her eyes for a few months now. She’s alone in the main lab, squished into a hospital bed, next to the comatose body of the man she loves with all her heart but had to let go for her own sanity. It’s been so long now.

It’s been the longest nine months of her life.

“P-please, Barry.” She murmurs, her voice quavering as the tears in her eyes spill over. “Please wake up.”

He doesn’t move. She tries one more time.

“Barry. Please. It’s my birthday.”

\--------

_ September 4th, 9:36 AM _

Her body tingles, still feeling the warm, loving sensation of his arms around her. Her hand shakes as she tries to calm herself but can’t, still remembering how his heart was beating so beautifully beneath her palm. After nine months of waiting, after months of keeping her emotions in check for fear of losing her mind, she needs to remind herself how far she’s come. How far he’s come.

She’s supposed to be driving him to see her dad but...she can’t. Not yet. 

“Hug me again, please?” She asks, outside of Jitters. 

She’s nestled in his arms, which hold her firmly and gently. She buries her face in his chest and smells the beautiful, distinctly Barry smell of sweaters and hair gel. She can feel his heartbeat as she presses her body closer to his, anxious to feel the rise and fall of his chest, his every movement.

“Hey...it’s okay. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” He murmurs. 

After nine months of silence, it just feels so good to hear him speak. 


End file.
